Anyday
by Stephane Richer
Summary: we would go on endlessly (Ootsubo/Nakatani)


Anyday

Disclaimer: Don't own Fujimaki Tadatoshi's _Kuroko no Basuke _or Derek and the Dominos' "Anyday".

* * *

Ootsubo Taisuke at eighteen is a man wise far beyond his years, a great leader of the kind that only appears once every generation or two. He takes on a multitude of large responsibilities, not with reluctance but with acceptance and a bright, genuine smile. He does not seek them out or bite off more than he can chew, although his shoulders are large and strong. Before his teammates even know it, he has lifted up the other end of their baggage and it suddenly seems a whole lot lighter—family problems, financial trouble, grudges, regrets, vendettas, he knows them all and does not judge or intrude but simply lightens the weight.

And Nakatani is so caught up in marveling at how the hell Ootsubo actually does this that he doesn't realize that somewhere along the line his burden has been taken up, too. The days do not seem so dreary to slog through; teaching English to a bunch of rowdy high schoolers isn't just a shitty, dead-end job; he actually enjoys practice and seeing these kids spread their wings and grow as players. And they're growing fast, too; this, again, is Ootsubo's doing. He says just the right words of encouragement and gives them just as much confidence as they need, without neglecting his own work. Even Miyaji is much more bearable. Nights are better, too. The once-sleepless lonely nights he used to spend staring out the window and dreaming of the past are now spent comfortably sleeping. The nights of little success in some dingy gay bar filled with college kids don't seem so bad anymore; even when no one approaches him and when he buys some guy a drink they only share a brief and awkward conversation.

Then, of course, he realizes that it doesn't matter because he's madly in love with Ootsubo, which is a huge problem.

Fortunately, Ootsubo seems not to notice (and even if he does, he's got the grace and politeness to ignore it). Nakatani tries not to show it; he tries to look at him less, the finely-muscled back and the calloused hands that still handle the ball like they're soft, the resolute eyes—he doesn't need to look, really; they're captured perfectly in his imagination. He tries to not place a hand on one of his captain's strong shoulders, to not praise him from the depths of his heart. He tries to argue against himself. He's only eighteen; he's a student; he's probably straight; it's just the allure of a forbidden affair. The feelings don't go away. Nakatani goes out more often, but the only guys he can look at twice are the tall ones with short hair and bright smiles. He's looking for Ootsubo in them, but can't find enough of him to satisfy the want that tingles in his whole body.

Sick, sick, sick, he chants to himself. Crazy pervert, pedophile, creep.

He doesn't want Ootsubo to find this burden, slides it toward his end and covers it, but he should know better by now. Despite his conflicted feelings, Nakatani manages to rest fairly easily and plan well enough for the Winter Cup. He's overwhelmed with pride in all of his kids; the players on the bench cheer until they can't speak and the players on the court stay in the game, competing on Rakuzan's level until the final buzzer sounds. It's hard for him to express this in words, so he just tells them to keep their chins up and get ready for the next game.

Of course, after this game he's actually going to have to talk with all of the seniors—for some of them, this won't be a problem. Okay, for most of them it'll be fine. Ootsubo being the captain, he'll be the last, so Nakatani has more time to prepare. Still, it's hard. There are a lot of seniors this year on both the first string and the second string, and they've all grown so much in three years. He can't help but feed them the clichés he's sure they don't believe, that he's learned so much about basketball from them and that he's enjoyed working with them and a thousand other things that sound better when more vaguely-worded and placed in horoscopes and fortune cookies and greeting cards.

Ootsubo hands in something else with his letter of resignation. He stands in front of the desk, not looming despite his height, and he looks almost nervous. The letter of resignation is standard; the second letter is not. It speaks in the clear, humble language that Nakatani has come to expect from Ootsubo, that he has enjoyed hearing echo from Ootsubo's lips. It's not a joke confession; nothing of the sort would have been this carefully or honestly written (or perhaps this is just Nakatani being optimistic and blind and seizing on a tiny scrap of hope).

Nakatani finishes the letter and looks up. Ootsubo's face is hard to read, a mixture of too many emotions. Nakatani sighs. "You're still my student."

Ootsubo nods.

"Can you wait it out a few more months?"

Again he nods, trying to suppress one of those floodlight-smiles and only half-succeeding and damn it. Even though he's mature and responsible and a good kid, he's still a kid. Nakatani questions his decisions yet again as he folds the paper in half and Ootsubo turns around and leaves (even in the uniform button-down shirt his back is incredible and those muscles are tantalizing and his automatic attraction battles against the logical half of him).

* * *

It takes until their sixth date to really get comfortable (somehow they'd kept coming back and giving it another go, neither of them satisfied or willing to break things off). It's July by then, and Ootsubo's tiny apartment near his college doesn't have air conditioning so he spends the morning at Nakatani's after spending the night and by the evening he's realized that he just wants to stay. Maybe they're just agents of this draining weather and their workloads, which have only been increasing, and are too tired to do anything but reach out to the other. They bump hands as they do the dishes together after dinner and it all just kind of feels right.

Maybe it's because Nakatani has finally let down most of his barriers. He does seem more relaxed, but is that a cause or an effect? The only things that matter are that his kisses are deeper and his words sound more natural and his hands wander more freely up and down Ootsubo's back and he smiles. The smile is a different one than the one he gets when something goes right in basketball, or when a student masters a particularly difficult task. Ootsubo's not sure if he's smiling differently himself, but his face feels different so that must mean something.


End file.
